


Some things don't need to be said...

by SheWillHuntYouDown



Category: Strike Back
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Life Partners, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Torture, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29293809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheWillHuntYouDown/pseuds/SheWillHuntYouDown
Summary: Michael and Damien, in the aftermath of the torture scene in season 2 episode 2.Can be read as romantic or platonic.Featuring: cleaning of wounds and relationships based on trust.
Relationships: Damien Scott & Michael Stonebridge, Damien Scott/Michael Stonebridge
Kudos: 20





	Some things don't need to be said...

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me in a dream the other day, and I just had to write it.
> 
> Can be read as romantic or platonic.

"Mikey, you decent?"

Damien stood outside Michael's hotel room, glass of cheap whiskey in hand. He didn't wait for a reply, pushing the door open a moment later. They'd been naked around each other enough times for it to not matter anymore.

Michael was sitting on the only bed in the room, a chair holding gauze tape, disinfectant and a suture kit in front of him. He was shirtless, and Damien's gaze automatically found the various cuts and burns dotting his torso. His own body throbbed, reminding him that he hadn't taken care of his own wounds from that day. He'd gotten back after debrief and all he'd wanted was to get drunk and fuck someone. Halfway through achieving his first goal he realised he couldn't stand to be around a stranger in that moment, his nerves too frayed to be that vulnerable in front of anyone while still wounded.

He climbed back up the stairs to his room, bottle of whiskey in hand, when he thought of the one person who he could stand to be vulnerable with, and that man was in the room next to his. So he changed his destination and knocked on his partner's door.

"What's the point of you asking that when you're gonna come in anyway?" Michael's voice brought him back to the present. He gave a lazy smirk in response.

"C'mon man, should you even ask such questions after all this time?"

"Maybe I'm hoping to drill some manners into you,"

"Sorry bud, that ship sailed a long time ago,"

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out,"

Damien sat on the bed facing Michael, the open bottle already halfway to his mouth. He took a large swig and passed the bottle over wordlessly.

Michael took a more reserved sip and put down the bottle between them.

"Mate, take off your shirt,"

"Woah, atleast buy me dinner first hotshot,"

He got the finger in response.

"C'mon, I know for a fact you haven't taken care of those burns yet. I wouldn't want you to die of an infection, it takes too long to break in a new partner,"

"Fuck you, man, you love me,"

"Eh, doesn't mean you're not an arsehole,"

Scott decided to leave the conversation at that and began to unbutton his shirt. Any other day he would have brushed off Stonebridge's concern and taken a look at his wounds himself, but not that day. Damien was still feeling a little off-kilter, afraid even when he knew there was nothing to be scared of. Torture did that to a person.

Judging by the droop of his friend's shoulders and the way he wouldn't make eye contact, Michael wasn't feeling a 100% either. They both needed the company that night.

Damien threw his shirt on the bed behind him and turned to face his partner completely. Taking his cue, Michael picked up the cotton and poured some disinfectant on it, his movements easy and well rehearsed. What followed was a process they'd both down too many times to count, but only on themselves.

Even so Michael's hands were never anything but gentle, and after the sting of the antiseptic wore off Damien started to feel marginally better. Even the way his partner covered his wounds with gauze spoke of years of partnership between them.

Damien didn't break the silence the entire time Michael did his work. After, he left his shirt off took the supplies from his friend's hand.

"Your turn, Mikey. Turn around,"

Michael followed the order without protest. Damien marveled at the trust that was being placed in him. Here was a soldier who had lost everything, including his wife and his lover, a man who didn't sleep with strangers for fear of being defenseless, willingly turning his unarmoured back to a man he knew was a dangerous assassin. Scott swallowed subconsciously, vowing to never let this man down.

Taping the last piece of gauze to Michael's back, Damien curled one arm over his shoulder to turn Stonebridge's face towards him again. Michael gave him a half smile, his eyes telling Damien he knew what he was doing, telling him he knew the importance of what had transpired between them.

Stonebridge grasped the back of Scott's neck and brought their foreheads together. Damien closed his eyes and they just sat there for a moment, in silence.

"Mike, you know I'd do anything for you, right?"

"Yeah mate, same. I'd do anything for you too,"

They pulled away, the silence growing awkward between them. Michael looked a little lost for a second. 

"What is it?"

"It's nothing, it's stupid,"

"Which one is it, is it nothing or stupid?"

He relaxed a little at the familiar banter between them.

"Fuck it. Mate, would you mind staying here tonight? I'm not propositioning you or anything, just sleep. I don't think I can—"

"Me too, buddy, me too. Scoot over, give me some space. And don't hog all the blankets,"

"Me, I hog the blankets? You remember that night in Mogadishu, who stole the covers then?"

"Fuck you, Mikey, we promised to never talk about that again—"

"No, no, you promised to never talk about that night again. I never swore to anything..."

They're voices trailed off as they both slowly relaxed. They fell asleep that way, back to back, the moon shining on in the distance.

And yes, Damien did hog the covers.

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse my weird grammar, English isn't my first language, or even my second.
> 
> Kudos and comments feed the writer in me, seriously.
> 
> I'm on Discord (@Mau#1787) and Tumblr (Ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou)
> 
> Come gush about these two, or any of my fandoms with me!


End file.
